


12

by Casstea



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ficlets, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 17:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2740649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casstea/pseuds/Casstea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year, is split into 12 months. Each month is like a little story, a moment in a greater story of love.</p><p>(It starts during fresher's week, when James couldn't cook anything more than beans on toast and Q was the flatmate down the corridor.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	12

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I burnt my hand making dinner and so this was created.
> 
> Note - Not exactly 'mature' rating but probably at the higher end of T with regards to alluded sexy time.
> 
> Special thanks to Rum for the idea for April.
> 
> Dedicated to the entire 00Q fandom, who are all rather brilliant.

_September_

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck,” James swore, waving his hand above the saucepan. The beans inside the saucepan were bubbling away nicely, although James was not deeply regretting buying the cheap-as-shit IKEA saucepans.

“Hello?”

James turned to see another boy leaning against the doorframe, glasses balance precariously along his slim nose. He seemed almost too smart to be another fresher, dressed in a shirt and cardigan that looked like he was a lecturer.

“Just making dinner,” James shrugged, “I’m James by the way.”

The other boy smiled slightly.

“Beans on toast?” he asked, “a delicacy for all students. I’m Quentin.”

x-x-x

_October_

James peered in the back of the kitchen cupboard, searching for a tin of beans.

“Are you trying to make beans on toast, _again?_ ” Quentin asked from the door. James liked the other boy, he was one of the few computer science students that didn’t speak solely in code.

James couldn’t talk. He was studying law, which scientifically was confirmed to be one of the _dullest subjects on earth._

But law was the family profession, and so James studied the subject with a thinly veiled ambivalence.

“I can’t find any beans,” James sighed, “want a dominoes?”

Quentin rolled his eyes, walking towards his cupboard (the one two along from James’) and pulled out his wok.

“I’m cooking you dinner,” Quentin said, “no human can subside solely on beans. Does curry sound good?”

James smiled.

“Alright then,” he replied, “just this once.”

x-x-x

_November_

“James,” Quentin said from outside James’ door, “can I come in?”

“Ughh,” James replied, shaking the remnants of sleep and pulling the stray piece of paper from his face, “sure, it’s open.”

The door opened about three inches before it slammed into the pile of books James had strewn across the floor, covered with various coloured notes and tabs to remind James of the complex cross referencing procedure he had created.

“Did you eat?” Quentin asked, as he slid between the tiny gap and picked his way across the room.

“Er, I had some toast?” James replied. Quentin rolled his eyes, peering at the notes that James had made in his scrawling handwriting.

“You do know computers exist right?” Quentin said, “they make things much easier.”

“Weren’t you swearing about your code yesterday evening?” James replied, a small smile appearing on his face, “I mean you even allowed me to _stir_ dinner.”

“You’re learning,” Quentin said, a smile spreading across his face, “but for now, I’m going to extract you away from your reading and _make you eat.”_

“What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Chilli con carne,” Quentin replied.

x-x-x

_December_

It wasn’t James’ fault that one of their other flatmates had decided to decorate the flat kitchen with copious amounts of tinsel and hand a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling with duct tape.

It certainly wasn’t James’ fault that he and Quentin had decided to try and make dinner whilst _drunk,_ although Quentin had insisted on drinking wine because then some of it could go in the dinner.

It wasn’t James’ fault that his heart got faster whenever Quentin smiled at him with that smile that radiated happiness and _life._

It wasn’t James’ fault that when Quentin and he had _finished_ dinner they had stood up too fast and stumbled into one another.

It was James’ fault, however, that when Quentin landed in his arms right under the mistletoe and looked up at James with sheer _lust,_ that James had pulled Quentin into a kiss.

The day afterwards, Quentin asked if James would call him _Q_ instead. He said it was a nickname that he only told people he trusted.

x-x-x

_January_

They started to work in each other’s rooms, James would work at the desk and Q would contort himself in impossible positions on James’ bed to work at his laptop. James had found his room steadily filled with far more cables than he would _ever_ need, whilst Q had taken to returning James’ lost notes that would get stuck behind Q’s bed whenever the two of them decided that kissing one another was far more exciting than actually doing _work._

“James,” Q said, uncurling himself from the bed and shuffling over behind James so he could wrap his arms around the other’s shoulders, “what you do want to do for dinner?”

“No idea,” James mumbled, “can I just say you?”

Q glared at him.

“That’s not a proper response,” he replied, kissing James on the cheek, “come on, _decide.”_

“How about spaghetti bolognese?” James said, turning in his seat to give Q a kiss in reply “I’ll try not to burn the onions this time.”

x-x-x

_February_

James had never considered the ‘day after Valentines day’ as an event he would want to mark in his calendar.

However, now he had Q, and that made it warrant a special occasion.

Firstly, he got to wake up in the _same bed_ as Q, a result of the two of them drinking far too much alcohol at the flat party on the floor below and stumbling back to Q’s room to rip their clothes off one another and make out on the bed.

Secondly, there was the fact that James could still remember the vivid memories of last night’s escapade, especially the bit where Q had slid down his body and taken off his jeans and underwear in one fell swoop before using his mouth to make James have the most powerful orgasm he had ever experienced.

Thirdly, it was the fact that James was reasonably sure, on the balance of probabilities, that he was starting to fall in love with Q.

x-x-x

_March_

Q got James some flowers when his exams had finished and James stumbled out of the exam hall looking like he had just been resurrected from the dead. James couldn’t help but smile at Q, sweeping him up in a dramatic kiss to say thank you.

James made dinner that night, a homemade chilli con carne that Q had _no_ part in creating. Even if the fire alarm had _almost_ been set off, and Jenni from the flat two doors down had tried to fight James for the largest hob on the cooker (he bargained a chocolate bar for an extra fifteen minutes of cooking time), it was possibly one of the best dinners James had ever created by himself.

Q ate it all with a huge smile on his face. James couldn’t help his heart miss a beat as their gazes locked, passing feelings and emotions that no words could attempt to comprehend.

x-x-x

_April_

Spring began to break across the university campus. Flowers bloomed, trees blossomed, and the skies turned blue once more.

Also, it was the month were _everything decided to fucking break_.

James hated being unable to cook with Q in peace in the kitchen. The gas was broken and the Maintenance Men had been attempting to fix the problem for nearly a week. Sadly, the university seemed to think that their tenants would simply fall back on stereotype and eat dominoes pizza for the time being.

James made beans on toast for them both, dashing into the kitchen when Maintenance had finished. The kitchen, once a place of calm and peace, had become a general communal place for people who had heard of the problem and _just had_ to come and investigate to see it for themselves.

“You know what,” Q said, munching on his beans and toast, the plate balance precariously on his cross knee, “this isn’t so bad after all.”

James chortled.

“Have I managed to covert you to infamous student meals that don’t involve any vegetables?” he asked.

“No,” Q replied, “just the student food that you make.”

x-x-x

_June_

“I love you,”

The words hung between them in the early morning air. James paused, breathing heavily, as he looked up at Q who was perched on top of him. Intelligent eyes looked back at James from behind dark locks, studying James’ face for what seemed like eons.

Then, Q laid himself down on top of James until the two of them were welded against one another, their bodies fitting together like a perfect jigsaw puzzle. James could feel Q’s heartbeat hammer between his ribs, and the way Q’s ribcage expanded as he took in a deep breath.

“I love you too,” Q whispered in reply.

x-x-x

_July_

James hated saying goodbye.

He knew that the end of the academic year bought with it the return home. Q to London, himself to Scotland.

“You had better not resort back to beans on toast,” Q said.

 _Don’t forget me, please,_ was the words which were said by Q’s eyes.

“I can’t make that now,” James smiled in reply, “I’ve learnt from the best after all.”

 _Like I could ever let you go,_ James’ eyes said.

x-x-x

_August_

James felt the ache of Q’s absence more keenly with every passing day.

He spoke to Q every day, through facebook or skype or text. He had visited Q down in London, and Q had battled against the trains to make it up to Skyfall in Scotland. They spoke about everything and nothing, their words and feelings entwining like the light of the sunrise dancing with the light of the stars.

Now, Q was the light of his world. He was his other half, the piece of James that he didn’t even realise he had being missing.

 _One week,_ James thought to himself, _then the term starts again_.

_Then I get to see Q every day._

x-x-x

_September_

“Hey you,” Q said, as he knocked on James’ door. They were living in different houses this year, but along the same street. It gave them enough distance to not constrict their fledgling love, but it was close enough that they could wrap themselves in each others arms and forget the world existed.

James did reply, instead crossing his small room in barely three steps and pulling Q into a passionate kiss. It was a kiss of need, of lust, of _love._

“I love you,” James breathed, pulling away from the kiss and resting his head on Q’s forehead.

Q smiled, that beautiful, perfect, gorgeous smile that made the inside of James’ heart mealt.

“I love you too,” he replied.


End file.
